


The Devil's Cub: Afterwards

by koalathebear



Category: Devil's Cub - Georgette Heyer
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 15:44:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4882594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koalathebear/pseuds/koalathebear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Speculation about events after "The Devil's Cub" ends.</p><p>I posted this a very long time ago and was flamed, kebabbed, shishkebabbed pretty badly and offended a lot of people so I took it down.</p><p>People said there is no way that Mary would have ever behaved like this but in my mind, Mary didn't really care about the conventions.  She loved Vidal, he loved her back - that would have taken them where it would ... </p><p>In any case, if a book can be published called "The Lost Love Scene of Jane Austen", why can't we have one for Georgette Heyer? :) I mean Georgette Heyer no disrespect, I just was really, REALLY was unsatisfied with the ending of Devil's Cub and wanted to know more.   I never actually finished this ...</p><p>I have no idea where it wants to go :) If you don't like this sort of thing, please just don't read it!!!!  The only thing that gave me courage to post it was that I was re-reading some Heyer and realised that other people were posting Heyer fic ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil's Cub: Afterwards

**Author's Note:**

> Example of some feedback when I first posted this: "When i saw the heading i was quite curious to know who would have the balls to continue in the Heyer style and so i decided to read it. when i did read it i knew it was some one without the B>>>s or rather too much of them. Right from the first para it is clearly written in the most common style of cheap romance where the order of the day is sexy references to the protagonists' bodys or thoughts without the least trace of IQ. This is certainly BENEATH CONTEMPTfor a Heyer Fan."

The coach barrelled along at a frantic pace and the beautiful French countryside went by in a rather dizzying blur.

The young woman seated inside had an abstracted expression on her calm face. She was dressed in a rather demure dove grey gown with a white collar. Her curling chestnut hair was arranged very loosely into a chignon and tendrils escaped from the knot to frame a face which though not stunning, was rather lovely with its intelligent grey eyes and kissable mouth.

Mary turned to smile when the darkly handsome, young man beside her took her hand in his and squeezed it companionably,”Not long now, Mary,” he promised, a caressing note in his cultured voice.

She leaned her cheek against his shoulder,”It’s so good of your parents to allow us to travel alone like this, while they take the other carriage,” she said smiling up at him.

He stroked her chestnut curls with a caressing hand,”We are betrothed, everyone knows that a betrothed couple like to be alone.”

"But the covenances,” she murmured taking his strong, white hand and pressing it lightly to her lips.

“Les covenances be damned,” he said cheerfully,”The Alistair family have no care for such nonsense.”

“If I recall correctly,” she said with a mock serious expression on her face,”It was your sense of propriety and honour which compelled you to offer for me, Vidal,” she said gently and he scowled at her irascibly.

“Nonsense, Mary. I married you for my own selfish reasons and those alone.”

Her fine grey eyes glinted with good-humour and she laughed gently,”I still cannot believe that we are to be wed,” she said in a wondering voice and he laughed and pulled her unceremoniously and quite improperly into his arms so that she sat on his knee.

“Vidal!” she exclaimed in laughing censure and his arms tightened around her,

“You can believe that we are to be wed for it is so, you shall be wife and I your lawful wedded husband.”

“I never thought I’d have a rake for a husband,” she told him, feeling quite at home on his knee and his dark eyes smiled down into hers with such tenderness and love that her pulse raced.

“You’ve reformed me Miss Mary Challoner, but I’ll have you know that there’s a price you must pay.”

“Oh, and is this to be brow-beaten and bullied, perchance?” she queried.

“That, too,”he said with a teasing note in his voice,”But the principal price is that by curing me of my rakehell ways - you alone must suffer my attentions and be the recipient of my wholly improper desires.”

She flushed adorably and touched his cheek lightly,”You should know my lord that ‘twere no punishment to do thus.”

The expression in his dark eyes intensified and he cupped her face between his strong hands,”I look forward to our wedding night with much impatience, love,” he said in a low voice which thrummed with his passion.

She kissed his cheek, feeling very bold and he smiled, his thin, sensual mouth pulling into a wry smile. His shy, sweet Mary was still very self-contained and inhibited, but he had his hopes that the passion he had sensed in her would find its own form of expression in her love for him.

Tilting her head up he kissed her lingeringly, their relationship having passed the point of chaste, closed-mouthed kisses.

She drew back, flushed and breathing swiftly, her grey eyes glowing with love and her mouth red and swollen,”Vidal, do you suppose Mr Comyn and Julianna are similarly engaged?” she queried impishly.

“I doubt it,”he said dryly,”I’d lay a monkey that they’re probably holding hands.”

She giggled. “It doesn’t sound terribly interesting.”

‘No, I’d say that my uncle Rupert is probably more entertained in his coach with his bottles of wine.”

Mary gave into her quiet hilarity,”I still cannot believe that he hired a carriage merely to carry his wine.”

"My uncle Rupert takes his drinking very seriously indeed.”

“Four carriages to Paris seems awfully extravagant.”

Travelling ahead of them were the Duke and Duchess of Avon, behind them were Mr Comyn and Julianna and behind them was Lord Rupert Alistair and his numerous bottles of wine, possibly imbibing cheerfully.

*

Mary looked at her at her affianced coolly, ignoring the dangerous tone and said tranquilly,”Stop clenching your teeth, my lord.”

“Devil take it woman, are you ever going to call me by my name? It’s Dominic!”

Mary bit back a smile but not before he saw it and he grinned despite himself.

“You’re a very infuriating woman, Mary,” he told her.

“Yes, my lord,” she said calmly, her arm on his as they strolled through the beautiful gardens.

If anyone had ever told Vidal that he would be walking through the gardens with a passably good-looking woman and be perfectly entertained he would have sworn that they were going mad, but here he was, completely content to converse on various topics as they examined the vegetation.

She was very well-educated and managed to discuss the most unlikely topics with him.

“Never say you learned that at the seminary?” he demanded incredulously when she conversed with him on political matters.

“I read the daily newspapers,” she told him, slanting a look at him. “And may I add that you are much more well-informed than I had been led to believe.”

“Minx,” he said appreciatively and pinched her cheek lightly. “Where would you like to go tonight?” he asked and she looked at him in faint surprise,

“Have you not a gentleman’s club that you are meant to go to?” she asked curiously.

“Are you eager to get rid of me so early in the piece?” he asked teasingly. It wasn’t the custom for a couple to remain together always, but Mary and Dominic showed no signs of being a conventional couple.

They were already the talk of society with whispers of a shocking mesalliance, although most agreed it must be a love match for the rakish Marquis of Vidal appeared to be passionately in love with his future bride.

They had only been in Paris one day, but such as the notoriety of the Alistair family that all of Paris was humming with the news that there was to be a wedding and that a very ordinary young woman had stolen the heart of one of the most eligible bachelors in England and France.

“I wouldn’t want to shackle you,” she told him frankly,”Julianna says that gentlemen prefer to frequent their clubs and that a good wife must be understanding.”

“What else has Julianna, that oracle and fount of wisdom told you?” he asked her sardonically, liking the way her chestnut hair shone richly in the sunlight.

“That gentlemen do not like their wives to be clingers, that I must be tolerant if you decide to keep a mistress and that I must submit to you and do my duty.”

Vidal was torn between amusement and irritation,”Tell me something - does she think that Comyn will take a fancy-piece to be his light o’ love?”

“She assures me that Mr Comyn will be a model of propriety and fidelity.”

“Yet she doubts my capability to be true to my love?” Vidal queried.

“I did not say that I agreed with her, my lord.” Mary told him softly.

“Julianna likes to fancy herself a woman of the world rather than the feather-headed chit she is.”

“You are too hard on her,” Mary said with mild reproof in her voice. “I have no intention of taking Julianna’s advice and consoling myself with a lover while you cavort with your amours.” There was a hint of laughter in her voice as she said this provocatively and Vidal stared at her incredulously,

“Egad, she had the hide to say such a thing to you? The brazen-faced hussy, she deserves to be beaten.”

The good humour faded from his face,”Perhaps it is all the crack for a married woman to take a lover - but I must tell you now that I shall be an extremely jealous husband.”

“As if I would ever take a lover Vidal, the notion is preposterous,” she said, not sure whether to be outraged or amused.

They arrived by a picturesque stream and lake and Mary shaded her eyes and looked out over the beauty of the setting.

“You’ve been the most entertaining companion today, my lord, is there nothing that you would like to see?” she asked him, studying him with a smile in her eyes. He looked far more relaxed and at peace than she had ever seen him. The wildness that had been in him plagued him no longer and the restless energy had been channelled into the heart-stopping charm of him.

He was dressed richly yet with the same carelessness which typified him, his dark blue coat severely cut, suiting his tall physique admirably and his cravat was loosely tied, the fringes tucked neatly through the button hole.

He wore shiny top-boots, finely tailored breeches and no jewellery save a heavy gold signet.

“I confess that being dragged through the libraries of Paris was an experience I had not previously had the pleasure of undergoing,” he murmured in an expressionless voice. 

“I thought you enjoyed that,” she said with mock reproach, her grey eyes brimming with mock saintliness.

“Yes, to know that dust we inhaled into our lungs was the selfsame dust breathed by our ancestors was truly awe-inspiring.” he commented and she laughed out loud which made him laugh as well. He smiled.

“But I just – I did enjoy it. The books were magnificent and the sight of your pleasure alone would have made it worthwhile.”

“I did think it rather naughty of you to tease that store owner of the antiquarian shop about the selection of erotica you discovered out the back.”

“Who would have thought that the old fellow had it in him?” Vidal marvelled and they both laughed.

His Grace had been startled out of his customary urbane composure when he had heard his son equably agree to accompany Miss Challoner through the book stores, libraries and museums of Paris. 

Vidal himself was somewhat bemused as he found himself sightseeing with his betrothed but as he had admitted, he enjoyed the experience far more than he had expected. For him, in front of Mary there was no need to feign ennui and disdain and he was able to tap into his surprisingly wide general knowledge to tell her about many of the artifacts and items on display. 

Furthermore, although her French was passable, given that he was fluent he was called upon to translate many of the signs and information in the museums.

The affianced couple appeared completely content in the company of the other and his Grace was constantly startled by the changes in his previously uncontrollable son.

Leonie had insisted on taking Julianna and Mary to be outfitted in new gowns and hats befitting their new situation in life and she had been gratified when Vidal had accompanied them, lending his taste in the selection of fripperies.

He had been quite unabashed in his appraisal of his future bride as she showed him the various garments, his dark eyes gleaming with approval.

“The crimson is you, Mary,” he had told his blushing fiancee.

“Vidal, I couldn’t possibly wear something so bright,” she protested but he had kissed her quite brazenly in view of the fascinated proprietor of the store.

“It looks fetching - I’m tired of seeing you in the drab, old maid dove greys and browns.” he told her and Leonie had been unable to suppress the fond smile which broke across her expressive face. 

Vidal in love was truly a wondrous thing. Leonie had always been an optimist but she had begun to give up hope that her beloved son would ever find a woman to make him happy.

She had watched as he had restlessly wandered from woman to woman, his cynical heart untouched and his eyes mocking and contemptuous. He was so different not, Leonie thought wonderingly as she saw Vidal arguing good-naturedly with Mary over a pair of costly gloves.

"They're only gloves Vidal – the price is absolutely ridiculous."

"Mary – would you kindly please stop looking at the cost. You are to be wed – you're entitled to be spoiled."

"There is nothing wrong with being frugal." Mary was reproving him, and he was pretending to be chastised and the two of them were laughing, oblivious to the scrutiny of all those around them. She certainly was a lady, and she was spirited and intelligent Leonie thought in approval. 

“Look – these look just the same but are half the price.” Mary told him.

Certainly not a common trollop or a faithless jade. She was well-pleased with her son’s choice. Justin was pleased, too, Leonie thought with gladness. He had been much struck by Miss Challoner’s quiet integrity, intelligence and courage and had no doubt that she would be a steadying influence on the unpredictable and unmanageable marquis.

Leonie couldn’t help wondering how Dominic’s former paramours were going to take the news of his wedding. Badly probably.

“I enjoy all our excursions, love,” he said drawing her into his arms and kissing her lingeringly on the lips.

He noted with pleasure that she didn’t protest the public aspect of their location as he drew her down to the ground and concentrated on making her lithe young body arch up against his in restless desire.

“Ah Vidal,” she murmured, her face flushed and her lips parted. His hand lay on her stockinged leg, stroking and caressing her skin and she ran her fingers through his hair, linking her arms around his neck.

“Love, you’re so sweetly responsive,” he murmured thickly, feeling her grow damp and hot against his long, seeking fingers. She groaned, arching against his clever hands as he entered her skilfully.

She bit her lip, crying out as her body shuddered to its violent release and she lay trembling in his arms as he continued to kiss her.

“All right?” he asked her gently and she nodded, her hand slipping down his body to touch his hardness and he groaned.

“Love, you....” she began hesitantly and he laughed forcedly,

“It’s of no matter sweetness, I like to see you pleasured.”

“But you....” she protested and he cut off her words,

“I can wait,” he promised her, an ardent expression in his eyes,”And believe me, I will make sure all is made up.”

She shivered in anticipation and they kissed again.

*

Lady Camille de Monteaux clenched her fists in fury when she heard the news.

“No, it is not true.” Lady Camille said her dark green eyes disbelieving.

“It is true,” Rolande Tresvant, Vicomte de Chailly murmured, malice in his mellifluous tones,”I hear that she is a veritable nobody of no particular beauty or connexion.”

Lady Camille was beautiful, the vicomte thought dispassionately, but beauty was beauty and she had certainly never been led to believe that Vidal felt anything more for her than lust. Even that lust had burned out though it had fanned hot at the time and their connexion had made Paris society sit up and stare.

With her exquisite blonde hair, emerald green eyes and tall slender figure, she was a goddess in appearance, but had the soul of a courtesan despite her high birth.

“Who is she?”

“An Englishwoman, Avon and his family claimed that she is the daughter of an old friend - a Sir Giles Challoner, but there are certainly very fishy circumstances surrounding the affaire. It is unlike Vidal to be so conventional.”

“She must be blackmailing him,” Lady Camille said tautly, her face stormy.

“But ma belle, you know that Vidal never offered you marriage. IN fact, if I recall correctly, he did not even offer to take you with him to London when he returned.”

“You are wrong, he adored me. There was simply a misunderstanding.”

The vicomte looked sceptical. “He is to wed her next week at the English embassy, a glittering affair with the creme of society in attendance. But if you wish to see her - I have heard that she will attend the opera tonight.”

*

Mary felt frustrated and irritable. Fine feathers for a plain partridge, she thought prosaically. The seamstresses and jewellers had been driving her insane and she looked at her reflection in the mirror, her chestnut hair tumbling about her shoulders in a tangled fashion.

It was more trouble than it was worth and she pictured enduring hours of styling and suggestion. The Alistairs were all living in a rather opulent hôtel and she had a very large and beautiful room to herself with thick, plush carpeting, exquisite tapestries and paintings and the bed was a huge affair with heavily embroidered covers.

The dresser was costly and covered in various accessories and Mary had stared at them with a hint of rueful dismay in her clear grey eyes. She was not accustomed to such splendour, such wealth and luxury.

She looked at her hair again. All her life she had braided it herself, styled it neatly and simply and now she would be compelled to torture it into fantastical curls, swirls, loops and chignons.

Julianna had made her head spin with talk of hair a la gorgonne, sappho and so forth. 

Feathers and jewels would be put through it and she tried to imagine herself with ribbons and all number of ridiculous adornments in her thick hair and failed.

With a set expression about her mouth, she walked from the room and walked down the long carpeted corridor, following it through to the end instead of going down the stairs to the parlour and front door.

She wasn’t precisely certain where the kitchen was but she correctly assumed that it was out the back somewhere and found small backstairs and walked downstairs in search of a pair of shears to cut her hair.

Perhaps it was childish defiance and petulance, a reaction to her new lifestyle and different appearance. All she knew was that cutting her hair would make her feel decidedly better.

Vidal who was in his own room, saw her pass by mysteriously without stopping and his curiosity was piqued and he followed his beloved at a respectful distance, wondering what the devil she was up to.

She wore a very pretty blue dimity dress with a lace collar and cuffs and the soft folds of the material swayed gracefully about her trim ankles.

His dark eyes took in the long, glossy chestnut hair appreciatively and he saw to his amusement that she was barefoot and looking extremely resolute about something. He knew that she wasn’t comfortable with the fuss that was being made over her and the fulsome compliments being paid to her by various people.

She didn’t look precisely unhappy, so much as determined about something.

He watched as she went into the large, impressively clean and modern kitchen and she conversed most politely and cordially with the kitchen staff. She was always kind to menials, Vidal reflected. He had never seen her vent her frustration on a servant, hadn’t seen her treat them with the cruelty or contemptuous disdain adopted by so many society women.

He wasn’t surprised to see that she knew most of the servants by name and addressed them such, treating them with dignity and consideration. Even his own beloved mother had a disdain for the lower orders - but then the Duchess had a dignity and pride which made her look down upon everyone, not just servants!

Mary went up the stairs again carrying something in her hands and he followed her and entered her room just in time to see her standing before her dresser chopping off a huge lock of hair, just below her ear and he made a sound of absolute horror.

“Mary! What the devil do you think you’re doing?” he demanded and she gave a start of surprise, but not before the chestnut hair had fallen to the dresser and she was looking absurdly lopsided.

‘Too late, my lord,” she told him ruefully and evened up the damage by chopping the other side.

“Is there some reason for this dramatic statement, love?” he inquired, walking into the room, eyeing her cautiously.

Mary felt suddenly sheepish. Her grey eyes met his a little foolishly. Her gesture seemed a little silly now and she was conscious that her hair was ragged and unsightly.

“When I thought of all the hours that would be wasted in styling my hair, I decided to cut it all off.”

“You’ve been acting skittish all afternoon.”

She smiled guiltily,”You’re too observant. Skittish is just the right word. I feel silly dressed so beautifully, it’s as if it’s not really me.”

The marquis laughed,”You’ve got to forget those dowdy clothes, Mary and wear clothes which are more appropriate to your beauty.”

She looked frustrated,”But I am dowdy, I never pretended to be a beauty! So when I stared at my reflection, I felt like doing something outrageous and cutting my hair was the most outrageous thing I could think of.”

Vidal sensed her perturbation and in an attempt to relax her, he smiled cheerfully at her, “You’re going to need help to tidy that up unless you want to look like a chimneysweep.”

She looked startled, but smiled back at him.

He took the shears from her and she watched in surprise as he smoothed his hands through her hair and began to snip carefully. It felt terribly familiar and intimate to have his fingers in her hair and he twined the silky lengths around his fingers lingeringly before snipping.

When he finished, her hair was very short, clustering in engaging chestnut curls around her lovely face giving her a look of very unusual beauty, her deep grey eyes thoughtful as she surveyed her reflection.

“Do you like it?” he queried, ruffling her curls,”You look like a regular urchin, a boy in skirts,” he teased her and she smiled.

“My head feels gloriously light,” she said running her fingers through her hair. 

“Perhaps I missed my calling as a coiffeuse,” he mused, flicking his fingers lightly against her cheek.

He stood behind her, linking his hands beneath her breasts and studied her reflection in the mirror.

“You are beautiful to me, Mary,” he murmured, his fingers caressing her suddenly aching breasts and she moaned,

“Vidal, you make me feel beautiful,” she responded.

There was a light rap on the door and Julianna entered and gave a shriek of dismay when she saw Mary’s shorn head.

“Mary! What have you done?” she demanded in astonishment. “Don’t you know only those with the fever cut their hair thus?”

“Ah, but you know that Mary has a fever for me, ouch,” Vidal said reproachfully when his beloved very improperly elbowed him in the ribs.

“You cut it yourself?” Julianna asked in fascination and Mary glanced at her betrothed,

“Actually....”

“Dominic?” Julianna demanded in disbelief,”You didn’t?”

“I confess,” Vidal said with a grin,”I cut her hair - but not because of any misdemeanour on her part, I did it merely because I did not want her to lose an ear in the process.” 

Julianna’s jaw dropped in shock. Then she turned back to Mary who was smiling faintly. 

“It is becoming,” Julianna admitted a little reluctantly,”But how odd. Whatever will Andre say?” she wondered, referring to the hair stylist who apparently was on his way up the stairs to put her hair into a most gorgeous arrangement.

“You may tell him that his services are no longer needed - I am more than capable of seeing to Mary’s hair,” Dominic said wickedly.

*

“Non Dominique!” Leonie said imperiously,”You cannot come in here,” Leonie protested but Vidal merely smiled down at his mother,

“Maman, do not block my entrance.” he said.

“Mary is dressing,” Leonie told him in exasperation,”You are de trop.”

“That is true,” he agreed,”but my affianced is well aware of that fact,” and he entered the room where Mary stood before the looking glass looking extremely uneasy, extremely nervous and extremely beautiful.

She was dressed in a flowing, elegant gown of green silk which brought out the red richness of her chestnut curls and her skin looked pale, flawless, the cameo-purity of her face enchanting and the soft folds of the gown looked exquisite on her slim body.

She looked at him nervously, biting her lip and flushing painfully,”I look ridiculous,” she said desperately,”Vidal, could I not wear something simpler?”

“You look exquisite,” he told her in a low voice coming up to stand beside her and he kissed her lingeringly, ignoring the presence of the maid and his mother.

“I told her she looks lovely, but this one, she is trop modest,” Leonie said in fond exasperation.

Vidal ran a caressing finger down the curve of Mary’s cheek and he saw her shiver in response, saw the expression in her eyes and he smiled.

Mary looked startled when she felt something cold come to rest around her neck and looked down at the blinding green fire of a necklace of emeralds.

“Oh no,” she said distressfully,”I could not possibly accept these,” she said in alarm,”What if I should lose them?”

“They’re yours, Mary, you can throw them in the Seine if you want,” Vidal teased her and she touched them wonderingly,

“They’re a gift from you?” she questioned and he nodded, tweaking a chestnut curl.

“They’re so lovely,” she said softly. “Must we go to the ball after the opera?” she asked him anxiously and he smiled gently at her,

“Not if you don’t want to, love,” Vidal said and then Leonie exclaimed,

“No, you must go!” Leonie insisted, looking extremely exasperated,”I have made arrangements - Dominique, surely you want to show off your beautiful betrothed?” she demanded and Vidal smiled,

“It’s up to Mary, I don’t mind what we do.”

*

She enjoyed the opera prodigiously and clutched Vidal’s hand convulsively as she watched, wide-eyed and thoroughly enthralled.

Vidal was entranced by the almost child-like wonder she took in the performance. There had been little joy in his Mary’s life. Sophia, the wanton and the beautiful had been the favoured child and Mary considered the plain blue-stocking, doomed to spinster-hood.

He himself had little interest for the opera and entertained himself by watching Mary’s face and also the fascinated onlookers who goggled their box quite shamelessly.

At the intermission, she rested her hand lightly on his arm as they walked downstairs.  
“I must confess to liking it monstrously even if the tenor is a trifle flat.”

“He was also fat,” Vidal said uncharitably and she stifled a laugh. “Do you care for a turn around the garden, love or would you rather have a lobster patty?”

“The garden, if you please,Vidal.” Mary said,”I wonder why it is that it must always be lobster patties. A veritable surfeit of them has led me to shudder at their appearance.”

“I never eat ‘em,” Vidal shrugged,”Ton food’s always a waste of time - cold and unappetising.” The air was cool and fresh and she breathed deeply of the air,

“Isn’t that music divine, Vidal?” she asked as they walked arm in arm down the footpath.

He listened for a moment,”Handel’s a bit of a bore,” he said uncharitably and Mary laughed and they launched into an involved debate about the merits and faults of Handel.

When the bells rang to summon them back to their seats, Mary was laughingly declaring a truce. He ruffled her hair affectionately, to the disapproval of the old dowager with the protuberant eyes who was waddling back to her seat on the arm of her grandson.

“Shameless, absolutely shameless.”

*

Mary shifted restlessly in her bed, the cool breeze from the windows not sufficient to quieten her movements.

The sight of a dark shadow in her room made her sit up abruptly, a hand flying to her hand to muffle her scream.

She hastily reached for the bedside lamp and brandished it menacingly when she heard the sound of familiar laughter.

“I might have known you’d try to brain your own affianced, Mary love,” Vidal said laughing softly and she put her lamp down and glared at him.

“It’s no more than you deserve, Vidal. Sneaking up on a body like that. Whatever are you doing here?” she demanded.

“I notice you weren’t sleeping either,” he commented, coming to sit on the edge of the bed and studied her pale face in the moonlight.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she confided bluntly.

“Nervous about being married?” he teased her and she laughed taking his hand and resting it against her cheek.

“Perhaps. And how about you?” she asked.

He took her into his arms and lay beside her, his hands smoothing over her body soothingly. “Terrified out of my mind.” he joked and she giggled childishly, feeling her body relax as he held her close to him.

“Have you come to claim your conjugal rights a night early, m’lord,” she teased him, turning in his arms to stare up into his handsome face.

He grinned wolfishly. “Conjugal rights? That’s not the right term. Sensual pleasure is how I’d characterise it, Mary love.”

Mary smiled and touched his lips with her fingers and settled against him. "I thought you had made up your mind to wait until our wedding night, my lord," she murmured, allowing her fingers to slip through his hair.

"And so I had," he agreed, kissing her fingertips lightly and slipping his hands beneath her nightgown to caress her. She arched up against his touch. This was Vidal. She could deny him nothing, nor would she care to deny him. His voice, his hands, his quick, dazzling smiled had the power to melt her bones to water.

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t have a taste of what is to come love….”

*

Mary made a sound of protest as Vidal kissed her brow and moved as if to leave.

"I can't stay here tonight, love."

"Are you still thinking of my reputation?" she inquired archly and he grinned rakishly and kissed her soft mouth lingeringly.

"Tomorrow is our wedding tonight – I will abide by my promise not to take you before then."

"But stay with me, Vidal," she said with a sigh. "It is cruel of you to hold me in your arms and then to leave me."

His face darkened and he took her back into his arms, holding her tight, his mouth hard on hers.

"Tomorrow when we are man and wife, love – no one will ever take you from me again. We will always be together." he promised her in a low shaking voice and she smiled and kissed him.


End file.
